Junio put down his tray on the inlaid table, his grin broader than ever. ‘Your gift did not impress him, master?’ The tray, I saw, carried a platter of fine fruits — figs, dates, medlars, plums and apricots which must have come from all over the Empire. There was nothing so humble as an apple.
I ignored Junio’s remark and picked up a small brown medlar. It was mellow and ripe, and I sank my teeth into the fragrant flesh.
Junio watched me in mock horror. He had been raised as a slave in a Roman household, and seemed to share our conquerors’ misconception that because a ripe medlar looks half rotten it cannot be good to eat. ‘Chosen like a Celt,’ he grinned.
‘Enough of your impudence.’ I spoke with as much severity as I could muster. ‘Why did you not come and rouse me earlier, you young scoundrel? You might have saved me the embarrassment of being late for the governor.’
This time his surprise was genuine. ‘Wake you, master? But it was His Excellence himself who gave orders that you were not to be disturbed. You’d had a long journey already, he said, and it is a long way to Eboracum.’
That was true. I had been invited to Londinium by the governor on purpose to accompany him to Eboracum. Pertinax had learned from my patron in Glevum that I wished to go there to look for Gwellia — the wife who had been torn from me some twenty years earlier when we were both captured by pirates and sold into slavery — and had arranged to take me with him as a reward for solving a politically embarrassing killing. What Pertinax did not know was that my reasons for making the journey had become redundant. I now knew that Gwellia had been sold on. I had even glimpsed her for one tantalising moment, bound hand and foot on the back of a cart with a whole consignment of other female slaves, being driven south. By now she was probably somewhere in Londinium itself.
But it was too late. My promised reward was Eboracum, and to Eboracum I would have to go — although it would break my heart to have to leave the capital without searching for her. I had even considered pleading with my host, but of course realistically that was impossible. No sane man dares to appear ungrateful to the governor. All I could do was try to make a few discreet enquiries in the day or two before we left, though in a city this size there was very little hope.
I sighed.
Junio misinterpreted it. ‘I am sorry, master, if you wished me to attend you. There were strict instructions sent to the servants’ quarters. You were to be allowed to sleep.’
‘But that slave woke me. Said that the governor was asking for me.’
‘So he is, now,’ Junio said. ‘But only because of this murder.’
‘Murder?’
It was Junio’s turn to sigh. ‘You mean that supercilious slave didn’t even tell you? Pertinax was receiving his clientes this morning when the message arrived. An important official was killed last night in his own home. One of his slaves was murdered, and his wife — who only married him a few months ago, poor thing — had a narrow escape. There was an intruder, it seems, although the man’s mother is full of accusations.’
I frowned. ‘But surely this is a matter for the courts? Why does Pertinax want me?’
Junio grinned. ‘You underestimate your reputation for solving mysteries, master. Marcus must have sung your praises to good effect. The whole household here has heard of you, even the slave who cleans the stables.’
I might have guessed as much. Marcus Aurelius Septimus is my patron in Glevum and a particular friend and confidant of Pertinax — in fact, he is the governor’s personal representative in our part of the province. I knew that he boasted to Pertinax of my little successes in clearing up one or two earlier unpleasantnesses: not surprisingly, perhaps, since as my official patron Marcus himself received much of the credit. Without that, I would never have found myself in Londinium now, enjoying my ‘reward’. And now Pertinax himself wanted my services! That was alarming in itself, although no doubt it explained the use of my three-fold name.
I shook my head doubtfully. ‘But those affairs with Marcus were political matters — or they appeared to be. This is hardly the same thing. A domestic murder. .’ I said it without much conviction. The murdered man had been an important official, Junio had said, but it only made me all the more reluctant to become involved. If I was occupied with that kind of investigation, there was the end of any hope of looking for my wife.
Junio smiled. ‘Not all that domestic. There is also the little matter of some missing document or other. To say nothing of an awful lot of tax money. Or so the servants here are saying — one of them overheard the messenger. So if you have quite finished with that medlar, master, perhaps you had better let me wipe your chin and then you can call that slave and go and see the governor. No doubt he will tell you all about it.’
Chapter Two
The governor was waiting for me.
I was shown into his receiving room — a vast, pillared chamber dotted with statues, silken hangings and wonderful carved and inlaid furniture. At once His Excellence waved away his remaining clientes, rose from the magisterial couch and stood at the top of the shallow steps on the receiving dais to welcome me in person. Only his private bodyguard — half a dozen huge auxiliaries from the African provinces, the muscles in their naked arms rippling under their smooth brown skin — remained, silent and watchful around the edges of the room. However, I was favoured. For the Roman governor, this counted as a private audience.
The governor himself was an imposing sight. Publius Helvius Pertinax was of course a soldier — general-in-chief of all the cohorts and legions in Britannia — and he had chosen this morning to dress like one. He was only of middle height, and no longer young, but in that uniform he looked every inch a governor. Somehow the glittering breastplate and leather skirts made him seem far more imperial and intimidating than the splendid Roman robes he had worn to the banquet the night before. Add to that the watching guards, and his own naturally rather severe face and formal manner, and you will see why, despite Junio’s assurances, my agitation about being late was in no way allayed.
‘Ten thousand apologies, Mightiness,’ I stammered, hurrying up the steps as fast as I could, and flinging myself abjectly to my knees upon the topmost one. Uncomfortable, but unexpectedly effective. I had intended to make the humblest of obeisances, but in my hurry to prostrate myself I caught my kneecap on the edge of the stair. I bit back the exclamation that rose to my lips, but when I raised my eyes towards my ruler the tears in them were genuine.
He must have noticed them. The stern face softened to a smile. ‘Citizen pavement-maker.’ He extended a hand, upon which so many rings and seals were set that they looked like finger-armour. ‘Do not distress yourself. I am glad to find you rested.’
I accepted this as an invitation to rise, and having duly pressed my forehead to the hand I did so, although with difficulty. The blow to my knee had deprived me momentarily of all power of intelligent speech, so I simply nodded in what I hoped was a dutifully grateful manner.
The governor wasted no time. ‘I am sorry to have wakened you, my friend, but I am in need of your advice. No doubt you have heard about this unfortunate business in the city?’ He sat down on the couch again as he spoke, picked up an elaborate ebony-handled fly-switch from the table (a memento from his service in the Syrian legions, perhaps) and gestured to a footstool at his side.
I sat down where he had indicated, and said carefully, ‘I heard that there had been an unexpected death.’
He eyed me shrewdly. ‘A death, certainly. Of one of the city’s senior officials too. How unexpected it is I could not say. There have been so many plots and counter-plots lately — as you know, since you so brilliantly helped to uncover one.’
There was no decently modest answer to that, so I said nothing, and merely attempted to look at once grave and deeply interested. In fact, every alarm-goose in my head was already hissing urgent warnings. Ten minutes ago I had been concerned lest I had earned Pertinax’s disapproval — now it was his approval that worried me still more. And with reason. I had been lucky to escape from that last investigation with my life. If the governor was about to ask for my help — as I had a terrible premonition that he was — I could soon find myself playing political ludus latinorum again, with my head once more as the stake.